


hot tin roof

by rankarana



Category: THE iDOLM@STER, The iDOLM@STER Cinderella Girls
Genre: F/F, Smut, cat gets the big cream
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-03
Updated: 2017-05-03
Packaged: 2018-10-27 06:23:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10803558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rankarana/pseuds/rankarana
Summary: "Sit, kitty," Ai says to her, and Rumi does what she's told; because it's all too easy for a stray like her to fall for any sign of kindness and warmth.





	hot tin roof

**Author's Note:**

> this is an obscure-ass ship and i'm honestly grateful you even clicked on this fic to begin with.

“Sit, kitty.”

They’re the same height, but right now Ai seems so much _taller_ than her. Of course, she _would_ , since Rumi’s kneeling in front of her, between her legs - but it’s a different kind of tall, the kind that makes Rumi think that the other woman always has a least a head of height on her. It’s faintly humiliating to consider. She leans back on her knees, sitting on her lower legs before inelegantly reaching back to yank off her heels. If Ai’s going to be like _this_ , she’d rather not think about getting blisters from how her shoes are digging into the back of her ankles.

She looks up at Ai, and Ai looks back down, and they just stay like that for a few moments. Ai places a hand to her chin, smiles, and simply _waits_ , like she’s expecting Rumi to trip herself up.

“You can’t teach cats to do tricks. Not—like that,” Rumi tells her. She doesn’t think so, at least. Not that Ai cares, her complaint soon silenced by a hand on her head, running through her short hair. It’s not rough today – it’s a slow caress, fingers sliding through, nails not even trying to dig into her scalp.

All accompanied by an unbearable look of affection on Ai’s face.

“I’m sure a _good_ cat could learn. Especially if she wants her reward.” Ai’s words have a little humour to them, but no room for compromise. If Rumi could hiss in response, she would – but she just sits and accepts the petting. It’s easier to do that and just try to hide the faraway expression breaking through onto her face, the surprisingly gentle way Ai’s treating her making her want to gasp a little, whine out just a bit – but she resists. Rumi’s gotten very good at suppressing her own emotions, after all.

There’s a low murmur from Ai, muttering something that Rumi can’t quite make out that still somehow soothes her, just a little. The hand veers to the right, her thumb resting in the little space above Rumi’s ear, and finally the tip of her finger presses against Rumi’s skin. Her nails are—longer than usual, Rumi realises. She hasn’t cut them as often as usual, and definitely hadn’t bothered doing so in preparation for tonight; or maybe not cutting them was part of preparation, in a purposefully twisted way.

Not that she can really think about that, though. She’s thankful for it, the way Ai’s nail massages and pulls against that little sensitive patch behind her ear making her unable – or more honestly, unwilling – to keep her façade up. Rumi pants, eyelids flinching shut for just a moment, and when she opens them again she knows her eyes look so much needier than they did five seconds ago.

“Good girl.” Ai’s the only person in the world Rumi accepts saying that to her, and she’s aware Ai realises that. It’s the kind of understanding that brings them closer to truly knowing the other, and that’s not necessarily a good thing. It’d be easier to see what they had as a simple way to take out stress, to get angry at the other person for being someone they didn’t really connect with, and implicitly understand that ambivalence would just be part of the whole arrangement. That’d be so much simpler than clenching her fists when Ai strokes her, savouring every second of being the younger girl’s pet. There’s nothing specifically cruel about this treatment, Rumi realises – really, this is the sweetest way Ai can show her love.

Sometimes Rumi wishes she was a lot less accurate with throwing knives. Accountability’s a bitch.

Clearly Ai thinks she’s wasted enough time spoiling Rumi, as she moves away from spoiling her kitten to undo her slacks with a surprising amount of speed. Once she’s done with her belt, though, Rumi starts to paw at that hand, trying to force it away – and when Ai doesn’t understand, she presses nails to that _talented_ hand, dragging them down.

_Scratching._

The worst thing is that Ai doesn’t even deign her with a true response. Rumi can’t even hear a chuckle from her, and she hates it. When Ai’s making fun of her, at least she can glare right back; tacit acceptance is the most suffocating thing in the world. It makes her desperate to undress Ai, to really show her that she shouldn’t be underestimated, and now Rumi’s the one acting with an embarrassing amount of speed. She’s always admired cats as sly, curious beings, unreadable and loving every second of how they play with their owners’ minds – but right now, she’s so obvious it’s painful for the both of them. The button pops, the zipper hisses as Rumi pulls it so hard that it seems like it’s about to come off, and she pauses for a second as she starts shifting the pants down over Ai’s hips, looking at the only _thing_ – surprisingly black and lacy – separating her from her reward.

“Mm? Is something wrong?” Ai looks a little concerned for a moment, and Rumi notices it. A rare chink in her insufferable confidence, or did she legitimately not expect Rumi to be surprised by the fairly _sexy_ underwear she’s wearing?

“…I’m just surprised that my ‘reward’ is actually presented like one.” This finally earns a snort from Ai, who sits back a little, waiting for Rumi to unwrap it. It’s her rare chance to play with her owner, toying with the fabric and removing it _ever_ so slowly - and when Ai’s underwear’s half pulled down, her hand snaps out, grabbing Rumi’s chin.

“There’s something a little cute about your cheekiness, but you could have chosen a better time for it, kitten.” Her tone is light, but there’s just a bit of genuine frustration there. Rumi can tell by the way Ai finishes off pulling down her panties herself, but the sight of her prize makes her give up on her provocations. For all their capriciousness and inscrutability, a cat is still her owner’s pet. They’re all too reliant upon the grace of their owner, and all too willing to roll over if you give them what they want, and when Ai lets go of her chin she knows Ai’s remembered this. Not that Rumi’s trying to hide it – she’s staring at her treat with palpable _hunger_ , her lips wet and her eyes a little dilated. If anything, she’d be more disappointed if Ai _hadn’t_ noticed.

“…thank you,” she breathes out, and once again Ai’s hand takes its place on her head, brushing the stray hairs out of the way as Rumi leans in. Another low hum of approval as her pet nuzzles against her and accepts her owner’s reward.

At this rate, Rumi thinks, she’ll end up allergic to herself.

 

**Author's Note:**

> for context:  
> the knife stuff is from https://pbs.twimg.com/media/C58OGQ4XMAAwKw4.jpg and https://pbs.twimg.com/media/C58U2tPWcAMSx8G.jpg  
> and the fic as a whole was inspired by https://twitter.com/a_myuriko2/status/859085937006960640/photo/1 this quality rumi set, and me being convinced that bottom right looked like about to go down on ai.


End file.
